Quills, Cauldrons, and Broomsticks, Oh My!
by FlitterFlutterFly
Summary: A collection of all my Harry Potter oneshots. First chapter is a summary list for all the ficlets. M rating does not apply to all stories, only some. Pairings include Harry/Draco and Harry/Voldemort, and possibly others in the future. All oneshots are complete and stand alone.
1. Summary List

Though some of you may not like this, I have decided to combine all of my Harry Potter oneshots into this singular chapter story instead of as separate stories. If you still wish to read/favorite them as separate entities, they still exist separately on my ao3 account (also FlitterFlutterFly).

Feel free to skip around to what stories sound interesting to you. Each will have individual pairing lists, warnings, and other notes within that "chapter".

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**1 - **This Summary List

**2 - To Whom It May Concern**

My name is Dudley Dursley. I'm here to tell you all just how horrible you are. It's your fault Harry died. You took away his only love. Letter Format. Angsty. Implied Harry/Draco. Rated T. Includes Major Character Death. ~1,000 words.

**3 - As the Creek Flows**

As the marriage contract is finalized, Harry contemplates the view outside his window, and how his life will forever be changed. AU. Arranged Marriage. Draco/Harry. Rated T. ~1,500 words.

**4 - Come Back Here Potter!**

Potter's been acting strangely and Draco is determined to figure out why. If only he would answer his bloody questions! Short experimental oneshot. Harry/Draco. Rated K+. ~750 words.

**5 - Fallen Angel**

Harry Potter is the Prince of the Angels, but doesn't want to be. When he Comes of Age, he finds his way out. His lifemate is a demon, the Lord of the Demons. The fallen angel, handsome, and powerful Lord Voldemort. AU. Voldemort/Harry. Rated T. ~2,000 words.

**6 - The Briar and the Rose**

Based of the legend of Tristan and Isolt. At an old church Cornish Harper and Irish Beauty meet. There a love sparks to outshine all others, even in their tragic deaths. AU. Harry/Draco. Rated M. ~7,000 words.


	2. To Whom It May Concern (HPDM)

**Title: **To Whom It May Concern  
**Summary: **My name is Dudley Dursley. I'm here to tell you all just how horrible you are. It's your fault Harry died. You took away his only love.  
**Genres: **Angst, Tragedy  
**Pairing: **Implied Harry/Draco  
**Rating: **T  
**Warnings: **Major Character Death  
**Notes: **I wrote this over 5 years ago, so it's not up to my current standards, but there you have it. It's been translated into French by the lovely pomme-violette. Link on my profile if you're interested.

* * *

To Whom It May Concern,

My name is Dudley Dursley. I know you probably think of me as the fat cousin who used to beat up Harry. And you're right, I did do that.

But not anymore.

Because my cousin won't be beat up by anyone anymore.

But you know this.

What you don't know is the real reason my cousin didn't survive the 'final battle'. That's what I'm going to tell you. I may have stopped beating Harry up the summer before he turned 15, when he saved my life. But I still have a spiteful side.

So I have no problem telling you that it's all your fault Harry is dead.

You, his best friends, second family, mentors. You killed him. Not directly of course, but close enough. You think that Voldemort (yes I know his name) killed him. You should know that if Harry really wanted to, he would have survived. He killed that bastard for you, but he let himself be killed in the process.

See, he visited me one last time before going off to the fight. He told me everything. I'm not sure why he chose me of all people. Maybe because he thought I wouldn't understand half of it. But I understand more than he thought I would.

And now it's my job to tell you.

From day one, my cousin was given certain prejudices. Slytherin is evil. You are or will be a great wizard.

What do you think those did for him?

The sorting hat wanted to put him in Slytherin. You didn't know that, did you? He never told anyone. Except Dumbledore and me.

Harry told it not to put him there. He had been told Slytherin was evil. He had been told that Draco Malfoy, who he met in the robes shop, was from a bad family. Draco Malfoy went to Slytherin, so he went to Gryffindor.

He became friends with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. They, like everyone else, expected great things of him.

He never wanted that, you know.

He just wanted to be ordinary.

Ron, you never understood how much you hurt him. That time when you thought he put himself up for that competition for more fame. Don't you know him better than that? But he took you back. Any lesser person than Harry would have dropped you. He gave you so much, and you never gave in return.

Hermione, well at least you believed in him. But you never trusted him. Never trusted his judgment. He understood things you didn't. Yet you told him he was wrong. You were always right. I can't believe I'm saying this, but Harry was smart. If only you had given him the chance to prove that.

I won't even get started on Dumbledore. Harry was Dumbledore's golden boy. Well he should have found a better family to put Harry with. I'm ashamed to say we were awful to him. I sometimes beat him up so much he could barely walk. My mother would give him chores that men three times his size would have struggled with. My father would lock him up in that cramped cupboard with no food for weeks.

There's the reason he accepted all the crap you threw at him. For all your faults, at least you gave him food. At least you pretended to love him.

But Harry was broken. He was broken in a way you could never fix. Cause you didn't understand. He needed someone who would love him without all those expectations.

And no matter how you think otherwise, Draco was that person.

That same Draco that, with your prodding, he had to hate for years.

But Harry can't hate. You made him into something he's not.

At least Draco never expected Harry to be perfect. I'm glad they got the chance to talk like civilized beings. It all started in Harry's sixth year. Draco never wanted to do that task. He had hoped Harry would help.

And Harry tried. But it just wasn't enough. Harry's not perfect.

When Draco went into hiding, they wrote to each other. Everyday. Eventually, Draco came to hide with us. Well, my mother and father never knew. But I did.

Draco threatened to kill me for hurting Harry when we were younger.

I liked him.

They grew close. Real close.

I remember overhearing them once. Harry was crying. Saying how much he missed his Godfather. I know what you would have said if it had been you in that room with him.

'I know Harry' or 'He's never coming back Harry' or 'He would want you to be happy'.

Draco did none of that. He just held him. Three days later, a letter came. Bellatrix was dead.

Well Harry was supposed to be in Slytherin after all. I hear they like revenge.

Then he tried telling you all. He wanted you to hide him. Our house wasn't safe anymore after Harry's seventeenth birthday.

You arrested Draco.

You took away the one person Harry could talk to without pretenses.

Did you ever notice how empty Harry's eyes were after that? Harry's a good actor, but you've known him for seven years. Surely you noticed something amiss.

Harry was gone even before he was hit with that curse.

None of you bothered to inform us Dursleys. Draco did though. I got a letter from him a couple days after it happened. I don't know how he got it to me. He probably died in his prison cell. Died of heartbreak.

Here's a copy of the letter:

_Dudley,_

_Harry did it. He killed -You Know Who- _(This was scribbled out)_ Voldemort._

_Harry's dead._

_I just wanted to say thank you for understanding. When you see Harry in heaven. Tell him I love him. I'll be torturing Voldemort in hell for him. Just please, tell him._

_Draco_

You don't know, but the original has so many tearstains, it's hard to read.

They loved each other. They truly did.

I hope what I've wrote touches you. I hope you feel guilty. Harry killed Voldemort for you. If Harry wanted to, he wouldn't have died. But he did. He let that curse hit him.

If there is a heaven and hell, than Harry and Draco are up there in heaven together. And all of you lot will rot in hell.

But I don't believe in heaven. I don't believe in hell. I don't believe in God. If there were one, why would it allow this?

No, death is final.

I just hope that you do one thing. It won't make up for Harry's last couple months of pain, or Draco's months in prison.

But it will count for something.

Please, put Harry and Draco together. They would want that.

Hate only brings more hate.

It takes two really great people to look past that hate and find love.

Remember that, share that, and maybe this won't ever have to happen again.

With all of my weeping heart and the fury of my soul,

Dudley Dursley


	3. As the Creek Flows (DMHP)

**Title: **As the Creek Flows  
**Summary: **As the marriage contract is finalized, Harry contemplates the view outside his window, and how his life will forever be changed. AU. Arranged Marriage.  
**Genres: **Regency AU, Angst to Happy Ending  
**Pairing: **Draco/Harry  
**Rating: **T  
**Warnings: **Arranged Marriage, therefore Dub-con  
**Notes: **This has elements of character study, but doesn't quite make it to that label.

* * *

Outside the small room's window, there was a creek. The creek sat upon the grass-laden ground in serene grace as its clear water flowed softly, disappearing into the far away hills. Surrounding the creek was a forest of trees, shading the tranquility of the rippling liquid. Various animals visited the creek, relieving their thirsting throats with its pleasant coolness. Despite that, no matter how many animals came to drink from it, the creek went on strong, never running dry, even in the heat of the summer.

Harry would often escape into the small room on days he could not face the world. On the day his engagement was announced, he sat on the dusty window bench and watched the creek as it flowed. He envied the freedom of it, and the animals that visited it. He cried his own clear water and let the tears leave stains onto the faded cloth he sat on.

Then, as the sunset cast a glow off the creek, bathing the world in multicolored hues, Harry contemplated the world, his life, and the future he was teetering on the edge of drowning in. When the light of the sun finally slipped away below the horizon, Harry took a breath and let it out. He stood, blindly making his way out of his small sanctuary, and headed calmly to the bed he would occupy for only one more night.

When the sun returned the next day, Harry rose with it. He readied himself for the daylight and was taken by his loving godfather, the Lord Black, away from the manor that raised him.

As the sun reached the highest point in the sky, Harry, the last of the line of Potters, did what he was trained to do since birth, even before his parents were killed. As the sun reached the highest point in the sky, Harry was given out as a consort in return for a much-needed alliance between two powerful families. As the sun reached the highest in the sky, Harry was married to the future Lord Malfoy, a man by the name of Draco. As the sun reached the highest in the sky, Harry resolved to flow, like the creek, and boldly face the life lying out in front of him.

The marriage ceremony was small. Only the current and future Lords Black and the current Lord Malfoy paid witness. Harry wore the traditional white robes of a consort. Draco wore the dark green robes that proved of his status.

Harry went through the vows on instinct. The cool grey eyes of his new husband and Lord bore into him, and Harry could not help but feel somewhat light-headed. Before he even realized it, he had become an official member of the Malfoy family.

Harry found himself escorted on the arm of his new Lord out of the Malfoy study and to the main ballroom. He attempted to memorize the passages, for this new manor would be his indefinite home, but failed. As the pair reached the ballroom, he saw the all the guests must have arrived. The crowds grew quiet as they were announced, and together they gracefully entered the room.

As per tradition, the newly married split to socialize. Draco would talk with other Lords and their heirs. Harry would talk with consorts or future consorts. Knowing this, his eyes immediately found the soothing face of his long-time friend, and he moved to her.

"Congratulations on your marriage." Hermione's voice was soft, but her eyes asked the question she could not say allowed.

"Thank you." Harry told her, attempted to convey only reassurances back to her. He was fine; after all, he knew the alliance would have to occur eventually.

And then, more consorts approached him, and Harry found himself saying "thank you" more times that he had ever said before. It seemed all the noble families of the world were in attendance, but of course they were.

As Draco was to be the next Lord Malfoy, the future ruler of a fourth of the world, Harry's godfather was Lord Black, the current ruler of a different fourth. The amnesty between the two families had been growing apparent in the past years. The Weasley family would side with the Blacks, and the Zabini family with the Malfoys. It would be disastrous.

Harry was known to be a favorite of Lord Sirius Black, and he knew that he would one day be married in a political alliance. He had almost expected it to be Draco, Blaise already had a consort after all. Even knowing that, he wasn't sure if he was ready. But he had to be, for the sake of the people. They could not go to war, for peace was what brought prosperity to the land.

Harry could only hope that the marriage would be enough.

It had to be.

As the ball drew on, Harry was led away from the consorts to the dance floor. He danced with Sirius and Regulus, his godfather's heir and Harry's older brother figure. He danced with Bill, the future Lord Weasley, and the rest of the Weasley brothers. He danced with Blaise, the future Lord Zabini, and countless other nobles until they faces all began to blur together. Then, the last dance of the night, as was expected, Draco took Harry's hand and led them through their first dance as a married couple.

It was not as if they had never danced before. It was custom that they had. Yet all the other dances had the tension of wartime. Even their last, at the ball celebration of Ron's wedding to Hermione, had held coiled muscles and hard stares.

Now, as they danced a slow waltz, there was only a promise of peace. A beautiful promise that made Harry want to believe that it was their first dance.

He was now his husband's consort. His lover, his voice of reason behind closed doors. He was submissive to his husband's words, yet the only one that would dare to challenge him, besides perhaps his father. He would be the one who would understand, and eventually he could hope to be understood as well.

And Harry could see, one day years from that dance that marked the beginning, he would be given a day to go where he liked. On that day he would go to the manor that raised him, and up the stairs to that small room that used to be his only sanctuary. He would stroke the window seat that housed him on long nights, and smile at the tearstains made from uncertainty. Then, he would sit on that faded cushion and let his eyes peer out his dusty glass window.

He would see the creek flow and the trees shade and the animals drink. He would watch the sunset cast glows of multicolored light upon the world. He would contemplate the world, his life, and the future that stretched before him. The future he opened his arms to in childish enthusiasm.

Then, even before the light of the sun slipped below the horizon, Harry would take a deep breath and let it out. He would stand, blindly making the out of the small room that once was his sanctuary, and he would head calmly back to the manor that saw him live the happiest years of his life. He would slip into the bed where he belonged and into the arms of his husband.

And if he was asked, on that day years from now, what he had done with his free time; he would simply smile and say a simple sentence, knowing that it was the one thing his husband would never learn. Knowing it was his life, his past, his future.

"I watched a creek flow."


	4. Come Back Here Potter! (HPDM)

**Title: **Come Back Here Potter!  
**Summary: **Potter's been acting strangely and Draco is determined to figure out why. If only he would answer his bloody questions! Short experimental oneshot.  
**Genres: **Humor  
**Pairing: **Harry/Draco  
**Rating: **T  
**Warnings: **Minor Language  
**Notes: **Okay, this was a challenge given to me by my stepdad. It's completely dialogue, nothing else. It also uses a mix of British and American swear words.

* * *

"Malfoy!"

"What do you want Potter?"

"Malfoy, I just wanted you to know that I think your hair is very neat."

"Potter? Potter, what did that mean? Was that supposed to be an insult? Cause if it was… Hey, come back here!"

**HPDMHPDM**

"Potter. Finally. You've been avoiding me for days. Now tell me what you meant."

"I meant what I said Malfoy. I think your clothes are stylish as well."

"How would you know what style is Potter?"

"Who knows? Bye Malfoy, see you in Potions."

"Hey Potter, don't walk away again! Oh, bloody hell."

**HPDMHPDM**

"Okay Potter, it's been a week. Now will you tell me what the hell is going on?"

"Malfoy, you are an engaging conversationalist and a witty rival."

"Was that supposed to be sarcastic?"

"No, never."

"You're really starting to creep me out Potter. Did someone put you under the Imperious Curse?"

"I can throw that off Malfoy, you know that. You know a lot of things about me after all."

"What does that mean Potter? No, not again, don't walk away. Damn you Potter, annoying bastard."

**HPDMHPDM**

"Malfoy."

"Have you finally decided to give me a straight answer Potter?"

"You watch me Malfoy, I know you do."

"Of course, a good opponent must know their enemy."

"There is a fine line between hate and-"

"Don't feed me that line Potter."

"Whatever you want Malfoy."

"I'm not listening to this."

"Okay Malfoy. Come talk to me when you're ready. Oh, and you have a nice walk. Very graceful."

"Damn you Potter!"

"I already am."

**HPDMHPDM**

"Stop doing this Potter."

"Are you ready to talk Malfoy?"

"Talk? Potter explain to me what's going on!"

"Not yet Malfoy."

"Bloody- you know what, I don't care!"

**HPDMHPDM**

"Fine, okay I'll admit it. I watch you a bit more than would be plausible if I really hated you. Now what Potter?"

"Harry."

"What?"

"Call me Harry."

"… What's going on, Harry?"

"You're very pretty Draco."

"I am not. Pretty is such a-"

"Draco. You're pretty. You have pale, baby soft skin. Your nose is small and cute when it scrunches up. You have a lithe body and your fingers are dainty."

"Fine Harry, bastard. I'll play along. You're not too bad yourself, even if your hair is eternally messy and you have those horrid glasses that hide your eyes."

"You like my eyes?"

"I… damn it. Yes I do."

"Thank you."

"Don't let it go to your head."

"I won't. I'll see you later Draco."

"Wait Po- Harry! Where are you going?"

"Class Draco, the bell's already rung."

"Damn you."

**HPDMHPDM**

"Draco, it's been a month."

"Harry, what are we?" We're not enemies. We're not friends. So what?"

"What do you want to be Draco?"

"I don't know."

"I like you Draco Malfoy. Know that."

"Harry? Harry, come back. Don't leave me! Not again."

**HPDMHPDM**

"Damn you Harry Potter!"

"Hello Draco."

"Don't 'Hello Draco' me. You tell me you like me then you disappear for three months! Where have you been?"

"I killed him."

"Killed who bastard?"

"Voldemort. You're free now Draco. You don't have to become a Death Eater."

"You killed You Know- um Voldemort for me?"

"Yes."

"You could have at least waited for my answer before leaving."

"But I know what it would have been. You didn't like me, not then."

"And now?"

"Why don't you answer that."

"I suppose."

"Say it Draco."

"I like you Harry."

"I love you too Draco."


	5. Fallen Angel (LVHP)

**Title:** Fallen Angel  
**Summary: **Harry Potter is the Prince of the Angels, but doesn't want to be. When he Comes of Age, he finds his way out. His lifemate is a demon, the Lord of the Demons. The fallen angel, handsome, and powerful Lord Voldemort. AU.  
**Genres: **Drama, OOC  
**Pairing: **Voldemort/Harry, side Snape/Lupin, Theo/Pansy, Blaise/Draco  
**Rating: **T  
**Warnings: **Suicide Contemplation (very brief)  
**Notes: **Another story I wrote over 5 years ago and therefore not up to my usual standards. This was my most popular HP oneshot, so I'm sorry to everyone who got annoyed with me moving it to this story instead of leaving it as it's own thing.

* * *

Harry Potter, Prince of the Angels, wandered alone among the clouds. Many would have been distraught to see him there, only a short distance away from the Mortal Realm. No one saw him however, and Harry was left to his secret past time. Watching Humans. Even if they had seen him, though, he wouldn't have cared. He was a hundred moons old tonight, and at midnight he would Come of Age. He would find his lifemate and would be eligible to claim his birthright as Heir to the Celestial Throne.

Harry didn't want that. He never wanted that. He wasn't cut out for being the Prince. His younger sister, Hermione, was far more suited for the job. She already had her lifemate, a Noble Angel named Ron Weasley, and knew far more about angel laws than Harry did.

Humans were much more interesting to Harry. They didn't have the purity of the angels, and they sinned constantly, but they weren't like many of his angel friends made them out to be. They could do kind deeds as well. They could have beauty and they could love. They made their own choices and were accepted for them, despite their faults. If Harry yelled at someone or made a mistake, then he would be shamed, Prince or not. No, Harry didn't want to be a Ruler of the Angels.

That was why he was waiting alone on the night of his Coming of Age. His family would be frantically searching for him by now. All they would find would be a letter, telling his parents to actually take a look at Hermione for once, and telling Hermione that he loved her deeply and knew that she would make a great ruler one day.

Now Harry waited. If his lifemate turned out to be an angel, then he would block off their connection and die. If, by some small change, they were something else, say a mereperson or even a human, and then Harry would leave and never look back at this childhood home. That was rare however, and Harry was prepared to die this night rather than be stuck in an eternity of misery.

Harry was the submissive mate, as indicated by his smaller form. Submissive mates found their lifemates on their Coming of Age, while dominants had to wait until their submissive's time. Hermione had been the dominant, which had caused a lot of snickers in the Court. That also meant for her, however, that she got her mate earlier than most females did. Ron didn't seem to mind that much, and Harry was happy for them.

Harry turned his thoughts away before they became painful. Instead, he focused on the rising moon. Only a couple more seconds now. At exactly the time that would be mortal midnight on the North Pole, Harry started to glow. His brilliant white wings fluttered in the energy that radiated off his body. The power was immense, and suddenly Harry felt a resounding echo from somewhere far away. Not the Celestial home, not even in the Mortal Realm. No, it came from deeper. Someplace dark.

A demon. His lifemate was a demon.

Before he did anything else, Harry quickly flitted away to the Soulless Pond. It was a dead place that few knew about and that even fewer could find. Here, his mate would not be able to track him.

Harry sat down to think, mind still reeling. Of all the possibilities he had thought of, he had never dreamed that he might mate with one of the Spawn of the Underworld.

So what now?

Harry's first impression was disgust. Angels never took demons as lifemates. His next thought was of contemplation. Harry wasn't a normal angel. He liked humans, he had a nasty temper though he kept it hidden, and he was actually considering this. If Harry was normal, then he would have killed himself as soon as he figured it out.

Oh Merlin, he was going to do this. Going to try at least. If his lifemate treated him horribly, then Harry would kill himself, simple as that. He had been prepared to anyways. He at least deserved to give the demon a chance. If the angels were wrong about humans, whose to say they weren't also wrong about demons?

Before he could change his mind, Harry flitted to the Underworld.

Because it was such a long distance, Harry was disoriented for several minutes after he arrived. When he regained his senses, he was faced with several balls of dark energy threatening him. Instinctually, his wings wrapped themselves around his body, trying to shield him. Harry quickly noted how out of place he looked in his pure white robes of a royal angel. The large chamber he had landed in had tall vaulted ceilings and no windows. The furniture (mostly chairs and the occasional table) were dark wood and the floors were black in color. This was the room of the Demon's Court. And it looked like Court had been in session, or just ended. Only a couple dozen demons remained.

"Stand down." A cold voice snapped Harry out of his thoughts. At once, the demons around him backed off. Harry took his time to study them. Beautiful faces, dark velvet clothes, and sparkling black wings. This was the Inner Circle.

Slowly Harry looked up to the raised throne that sat at the end of the room. On the jeweled chair was one of the most feared creatures known to angels and mortals alike. Lord Voldemort, once the fallen angel Tom Riddle, Ruler of the Demons, and Harry's lifemate.

Harry blinked quickly. Voldemort was handsome, with dark hair similar to Harry's own and a strong chin. It was his crimson eyes that made Harry take a step back. From the look in them, Voldemort did not yet realize who Harry was. He was on dangerous ground.

"What brings you here little angel?" One of the demons asked. Harry tore his eyes away from Voldemort to look at her. As the Prince, Harry had been required to learn all of the demons who graced the Inner Circle. This was Bellatrix L'Estrange, life mate to Rudoulphous.

"Now now Bellatrix, don't be rude to our guest." Voldemort said in a tone that clearly implied that he didn't mind at all. Harry gulped. "Who are you boy?" The warning in his voice was clear.

Harry let his eyes sweep the room one more time as he answered. "I'm not a boy. I had my Coming of Age tonight." His eyes landed on Severus Snape and he inwardly flinched. The fallen angel was his old mentor. A very spiteful being who had joined the demons when Harry was eleven. Even so, he would know him.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed as he started to realize something. His thoughts were interrupted by Snape.

"This is Harry Potter, My Lord." Snape informed the rest of the demons. Gasps were thrown in the air as this was processed. Everyone in the room knew Harry Potter was the next in line for the Celestial Throne.

The information clicked in Voldemort's head suddenly. "Today I felt my lifemate Come of Age in the sky above the Mortal Realm but not quite where angels dwell." He said slowly.

Harry drew a breath and let some of his energy out for Voldemort to feel. "I am your lifemate." He stated.

The demons began muttering as Voldemort's eyes widened slightly. He was not necessarily surprised at the news, just at the bluntness of the angel.

"Well then, why are you not dead?" A confused voice asked. It was Draco Malfoy, one of the newer members of the Inner Circle.

"I though all angels killed themselves if they were found to be mated to a demon." The blond's mate, Blaise Zabini, continued, stepping up next to Draco.

"I am interested in the answer to that question myself." Voldemort said, leaning foreword in his throne. "We lose several demons every couple hundred moons from the prejudice of their angel mates. Were you too kill yourself, you would free the Realms of the Lord of the Demons."

"My Lord, don't talk like that." One of the demons said in worry as Harry winced. He had tried to forget that by cutting off the connection and killing himself, his mate would become a mindless, soulless, walking corpse. Lifemates were not meant to be rejected.

"I never wanted to be Prince." Harry started to explain softly. "I've never always agreed with my fellow angels on several matters, such as the nature of humans. I planned on dying tonight or going into exile. I told my parents to make my younger sister Heir. I had assumed that I would be mated to another angel, but…" Harry stopped and looked quickly up and Voldemort then away again. "I wanted to give you a chance. I will kill myself if I'm treated badly here." He said the last part loudly and bravely, though his heart was pounding and he wanted to become invisible. He resisted the temptation.

Voldemort seemed genuinely shocked, and then he chuckled. A deep and intense chuckle that left Harry shivering. "I would never harm you." He informed the angel. The demons of the room laughed in their hands, as if reliving a private joke.

At Harry's confused expression, Pansy Parkinson chose to explain. "A demon would never hurt or deliberately cause pain to their lifemate. It is against some of the oldest laws of our kind. We value our mates, no matter who they are." She leant back against the chest of her lifemate, Theodore Nott, as she said this. He wrapped his arms around her gently, smiling down at her.

It was Harry's turn to be shocked. Now he saw the occupants of the room a little differently and blushed. "I did not mean to insult you." He muttered.

"Angels have preconceived notions. They believe in good and evil and that anything not Celestial is automatically bad. Why do you think I left them?" Snape said as he held hands with his mate, a werewolf from the Mortal Realms by the name of Remus Lupin.

Harry nodded to his former instructor and they reached a silent understanding. Harry turned back to Voldemort, who was watching him with an indescribable emotion in his crimson eyes.

"What do you say Harry Potter? Do you choose to die, or to become my mate and stay here in the Underworld with me eternally?" Voldemort asked.

Harry did not answer right away. He rocked back and forth in thought. If he chose to die, then Voldemort would be as good as dead himself. Harry couldn't do that, not with the demon looking at him as he did so. There was more than just that however. Harry saw clearly how easy the demons were around each other. Even the fallen angel Snape and his werewolf lifemate were accepted. The angels were always reserved in their emotions and actions. The demons weren't. Harry wanted that. He wanted that more than he had wanted anything in his life. He wanted friends who would accept him as him. He wanted the life that Voldemort was offering him.

Harry smiled brightly, the answer evident on his face. He unfurled his wings from his body, watching as they faded to a deep grey. He had made his choice.


	6. The Briar and the Rose (HPDM)

**Title: **The Briar and the Rose  
**Summary: **Based of the legend of Tristan and Isolt. At an old church Cornish Harper and Irish Beauty meet. There a love sparks to outshine all others, even in their tragic deaths.  
**Genres: **Angst, Tragedy, Fairy Tale  
**Pairing: **Harry/Draco, Blaise/Draco, Harry/Ginny  
**Rating: **M  
**Warnings: **Major Character Death, Infidelity  
**Notes: **Based off a song retelling of the tragedy of Tristan and Isolt by Heather Dale. It's not like the movie, nor is it like the original French legend. I'll include the lyrics of the song as you read the story, but it's not meant to be taken as a song!fic since the lyrics are not a perfect match anyways.

But biggest note is that I do not have Harry and Draco drink a love potion. I just have them fall in love (you can perhaps think of it as love at first sight). In the original tale, Tristan, or Harry in this case, was the king's nephew who came to pick up Isolt (or Isolde depending) to be married to him (the king). Isolt, Draco here, and Tristan accidentally drink a love potion on the ship ride over. Well, I completely changed that part of the story. Like completely.

* * *

_Who knows not the tragedy of Tristan and Isolt?_

_The fair-haired Cornish harper whose hands held steel and string?_

_And Ireland's greatest treasure, borne like Helen 'cross the water_

_While the waves approaching bowed before her beauty?_

Long ago, when the world still valued things like chivalry and honor, there lived two tragic souls. A handsome Cornish man whose fingers played tireless melodies that brought tears to the eyes of even the harshest men, called simply Harry. And Ireland's greatest beauty whom was sought after by many and named after the elegant dragons of old, Draco. Their tale begins and ends with the ever-climbing vines, Ireland's briar and Cornwall's rose.

oooOooo

_All who've heard the telling know the blind and bitter Fates_

_Placed the cup of love's sweet poison to unconsenting lips_

_And as plank fell home to timber and the king beheld his lady_

_Carols rang within the church and seagulls screamed._

Harry wiped the sweat from his forehead and adjusted the pack slung over his shoulder. His non-descript tunic was made for the north and Ireland's summer was just too hot. He had found his supplies in southern Spain, where they told him he would need it. They had forgotten that Harry had been born and raised in northern Wales. Ireland had practically the same seasons. Harry had worn short sleeves at home, and wished for them now.

Beggars can't be choosers however, and though Harry was a Master Harper his occupation didn't bring him much riches at his age. His clothes had been cheap, and that had been a blessing. So Harry decided on taking a short rest in some shaded area and cool off.

The perfect place showed up on the horizon only a few hundred steps later. An old and most likely abandoned church, walls tumbling but still shading several large areas of soft grass. Harry reached it quickly enough and by the time he had taken off his pack and the outer layer of his tunic, he was feeling tremendously better. He almost felt relaxed enough to take a nap, and so he did, relishing in the grass still slightly damp from the last rain. Harry closed his eyes and slipped off into blessed darkness.

As the Cornish man slept, another man came up to the abandoned religious house. This was fair-haired Draco whose carriage had broken down back around the nearby river. He had wandered off, waving away the calls of both guard and servant to stay close.

Draco soon had become lost, however, and was relieved to find a place to rest his tired feet. He spotted the sleeping man as he rounded the side of the ruined wall and at first he was anxious, thinking him some bandit or rouge. But upon seeing the man's clothes and his harp sticking out of the leather bag, he decided the man harmless enough. He settled down a couple yards away from the man and waited. He didn't have to wait long.

Harry woke the moment he heard footsteps near him. He pretended to go on sleeping as the unknown person sat down. When nothing happened for several heartbeats, Harry started his act of waking, sitting up slowly and blinking his eyes as if he were befuddled. He stood as he took note of the intruder.

The figure stood as well and all the witty comments Harry had prepared flew out of his mind in an instant. There before him stood the most perfect beauty Harry had ever seen and probably ever would see. Silky blond hair framed a pale and elegant face that held plush lips and gorgeous grey eyes. The man's body was tall, though still shorter than Harry's impressive height, and clothed in the stylish robes of a nobleman without the rounded belly that usually belied such status.

Harry was speechless as his mind all of the sudden began playing fantasies that all ended with this man writhing beneath him in bed. He knew that Ireland, like Whales, did not care for the sex of their couples so long as there was an heir somewhere. He could only hope that this man felt the same, for the fire that all of the sudden burned within him would not be diminished easily. He'd never met any who affected him so before even a word was spoken and for a brief moment he entertained the though to witchcraft before deciding that too silly.

Around him, the wind picked up as if in agreement, blowing several petals, rose upon inspection, around the noble male.

Draco stood as the mysterious man did. He had watched him as he lay, but only now did Draco get a good look. The man had a noticeably strong build and he was tanned like a peasant, which Draco found for once attractive. Draco's eyes traveled up past the strong chin, glancing over the messy ebony-black hair, until they settled on deep emerald orbs. The intensity, the evident lust, that sparkled in those depths caused Draco to quite nearly take a step back, though his own eyes must have mirrored that emotion.

"Greetings," Harry said, then mentally berated himself for the lameness of his tone.

"Greetings," Draco echoed in a slightly shaky voice. Quickly, he took a deep breath and regained his composure. "I am Lord Draco of the Malfoys. And yourself, Harper?"

Harry grinned, regaining his own composure as he straightened his slouched back. Deftly, he swooped to pick his harp up out of his bag. "I am humbly named Harry of a long line of Cornish Potters, Master Harper and current traveler. It is most pleasurable to make your acquaintance, Lord Draco." He bowed gracefully then and rang his fingers along his harp's strings as accompaniment.

Draco felt himself smiling and was surprised. He rarely smiled. "Master Harper? None make the rank of Master til they are greyed, you are surely playing me for a fool."

Harry winked. "No, milord, I would doubt you to be the foolish type. I am Master, the youngest of my craft, bequeathed the title three seasons prior to now by Master Lupin of England upon his death bed." The thought of Remus gave Harry just a small pang of sadness, but the had known when he first apprenticed to the old Harper that he would not be given much time with the sickened Master.

Draco raised an eyebrow. He'd heard of Master Lupin whose storytelling was told to be something of wonder. He remembered now the rumors of the Master Lupin's apprentice whom he'd gifted mastership shortly before drawing his last breath, but the rumors had never spoken to the age of the new Master. Regardless, were Harry playing him for a fool, he'd at least done his research.

"You are not convincing me entirely, good sir," Draco said finally. "Play something for me and I shall see for myself." He knew he was taking a risk with such a request. If this Harry was truly a Master, he was well within his right to be offended for being asked to play a tune without pay.

Harry blinked, having not been expecting such a request, but he shrugged mentally. Well, why not? His finger's itched with the urge to show off to this young lord. With that in mind, Harry motioned for Draco to sit down.

Draco did so, looking for a nice spot on the wall to lean his back against. There, in between an up-climbing rose vine and a creeping briar was a lovely spot. He sat down with as much poise as he could manage at the current site. Once he'd become comfortable, he indicated that Harry should start.

Harry bowed once again, cleared his throat, and began to sing. It was the only ballad of the ardent lovers whose disapproving villages forced them apart until they were forced to run into the hills together. The story itself was hauntingly beautiful, ending with just the right amount of hopeful desperation to be believable, but it was the performance that gave Draco chills. Harry's voice was a low tenor, matching perfectly to the melody of his harp as he moved through the verses with a practiced air.

Draco was silent for several long moments after Harry had finished with another flourishing bow. He had been prepared for something bad, he had even been prepared for something good. He had not been prepared for something so perfect it stole his breath away like the most treacherous of thieves.

When he found his voice again, Draco found himself asking for another song with unmistakable wonder in his tone. Harry merely chuckled and agreed, complying easily with all of Draco's requests. He was enthralled with the reactions of the fair Lord, fingers running over his harp until they were stiff and his voice hoarse. When he finally stopped the sun was well on its way to setting he was forced to claim exhaustion.

Draco relented and Harry shared with him some of the bread and cheese he'd brought with him. It was nowhere near a full meal, but enough to satisfy their growling stomachs.

"So, what do you think happened to his place?" Harry asked as he broke off another piece of the loaf and layered on the cheese.

Draco eyed the crumbling church walls. "I do not know," Draco admitted. "Maybe the residing priest died and a replacement was never sent."

Harry nodded. "That seems plausible," he looked around once more and his eyes fell on the two vines next to Draco. "How do you think a Cornish rose got all the way to Ireland?"

Draco turned and studied the plants as well. "I am not sure. The Irish briar is rather rare in these parts as well."

"It is a bit sad," Harry started.

Draco smiled softly, immediately understanding. "It is sad that they are so close and yet are unable to touch."

They both could see how the plants seemed to yearn towards each other. Even the roses blossomed towards the briar, and not to the sun as would be normal.

Harry looked at Draco with his soul reflected in his eyes. The sunset was casting a glow of the young Lord's hair and they were close now to ward of the coming cold. For a moment, Draco was sure Harry was going to kiss him and he thought he might just let him.

Just then, the sound of horse hooves permiated the air and they jumped apart. Both stood, watching as a four-horse carriage pulled up next to them. Draco recognized it and the guards around it at once, blushing as he realized he'd forgotten all about his entourage.

"My Lord!" The head guard rushed over, already in the process of drawing his sword.

"Nott," Draco greeted. "It is good to see you."

Harry had stepped back, hands raised in mock surrender. Nott stopped in front of Draco, eyes roaming over him to see if he'd been hurt. "We were so worried," he said.

"Thank you, Nott, but as you can see I am quite well," Draco said, all his earlier comfort gone to be replaced by haungting nobleness. "The Master Harper hear ensured I did not starve and kept me well entertained."

At that, Nott's whole disposition changed and he quickly bowed to Harry. "I am grateful to you then, Master Harper. My Lord Draco must get to Dublin saftely and as soon as possible. We would have been delayed much longer had we to nurse our lord back to health."

"You are going to the wedding?" Harry asked, guessing easily. "I have been commissioned to play in the ceremony myself. I have not heard with whom the king will be wedded to."

Draco froze and Harry, seeing this, felt the cheerful smile drop from his face.

Nott, not noticing as Draco turned away, grinned. "King Blaise has declared my lord here to be his chosen consort. He promised his baby cousin as heir already so that they would be able to marry."

Draco did not want to meet Harry's eyes, so instead he started walking towards the carriage. "Nott, we need to depart," he called over his shoulder. "And Master Harper, thank you for the snack and songs. If you would like, I have extra room in my carriage. We are traveling to the same place, after all. It's the least I could do."

It was the least. Draco could not help but feel guilty for, even though he hadn't been trying to, he knew he had led Harry on. He felt the bitten disappointment in his gut that told him just how much he would have liked for that kiss to occur before his secret was told. But Draco knew Blaise would not accept any lovers on the side for either of them, it was not his way.

For a moment, Draco thought Harry would refuse his offer. He almost wondered if that would be for the best, but the ebony-haired Cornish man merely bowed his head in acceptance and walked with the Irish king's future consort.

They travelled for a week. Not once did Harry say anything to Draco unless asked a direct question. He played for both lord and guards alike, but his energy never reached that of what it had been in the old church.

Harry knew he was being childish, but that did not stop him from separating from the party the moment they reached Dublin. Only two days later, Harry saw Draco again in what should have been a joyous occasion. The Harper forced himself to be happy for the Irish beauty as he played the wedding songs. It was a beautiful event and nearly all of Ireland's nobles and peasant folk alike had shown up to watch.

When Draco came later on the arm of his new husband to thank Harry and the other Harpers for their playing, Harry was able to give them a sincere congratulation. Draco was never meant for him, a simple Harper. He belonged with royalty and he and the king made a striking couple.

Draco shot down the pang that beat in his heart as he heard Harry's congratulations and smiled instead at the man he'd given his heart to after only two days. But Blaise was his future now and he allowed himself to be led away without fuss as the wedding party disbanded.

Harry paid no mind to his own disappointment as he left Dublin as quickly as possible. He barely knew the man, but his heart seemed not to care.

oooOooo

_All the harpers labored on their agonies of passion_

_Unfulfilled and ever straining like lodestones to the north._

_But few will ever mention how the cold breath of the Northlands_

_Let them lie at last as one without deceit._

Harry spent two seasons traveling around Ireland. He paid his way with inn performances, occasionally entertaining Ireland's noble class at their various manors. Not once did he see Draco or the king, though he heard of them often. They were rarely seen without each other, the rumors told. So rare it was, a love pairing between royals.

Harry could not stop thinking of those grey eyes locked with his own at that old church. He dreamed of roses and briars, waking up in cold sweat just as often as he woke to find himself covered in his own seed.

He desperately tried to distract himself, taking lovers left and right, but he knew every morning he'd failed as he woke with arms wrapped around someone too short, too stocky, or too browned, all of them just wrong.

Then winter came, blanketing the countryside and forcing Harry to retreat with the other travellers nearby to the Stronghold of Black, under the eye of its Lady Bellatrix.

He didn't realize until it was too late that Consort King Draco was also there, having been caught in the storm while visiting his cousin. As King Blaise waited alone in Dublin, Harry and Draco met once again.

Harry spent the first week resolutely ignoring the other, but he found too soon that his resolve was weakening and so, stuck in the castle with his forbidden love, he gave up and went in search of the now royal lord.

Draco stood at a large window in his empty chambers, gazing outside at the snow covered hills. He knew Harry would seek him out, though it he were asked he would have not been able to tell why he knew. He waited patiently, dread and anticipation both curling in his gut. He had no defenses against the Harper, he knew that also just as surely, and though he never wanted to break his promises against his husband, he also knew he would have no choice.

Footsteps alerted him to the other's presence, but Draco did not turn.

"The snow, what do you think of it?" Harry asked, standing slightly behind Draco as the blond looked outside.

Draco titled his head, giving him a sad smile that was reflected back on the glass. "Blaise says the snow is beautiful." Draco shook his head. "I do not agree."

Harry ignored the twang of jealousy that coursed through him at the mention of the king's name. "It is covering life, preventing the plants from growing and thriving," he continued for Draco.

Draco turned finally to fully face Harry, a searching look in his gaze. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

Harry took a step closer to the male, breathing in the intoxicating scent of vanilla and sea that wafted off Draco. "Because you are beautiful." Another step. "Because you are fun." Another. "Because you are elegant and graceful." And another. "Because you are married." One last one step, trapping Draco with his back fully against the window sill, their faces so close that Harry now whispered. "Because I love you regardless."

And then Harry placed his lips against those inviting plush ones, gently caressing them, pouring all the things he could not say aloud. When he finally pulled back and turned as if to leave, Draco found his voice.

"Are you just going to run away, then? Will you leave me, just like that?" Draco's voice cracked, all his raging emotions coming into that broken tone. "What if I were to say that you weren't alone in your feelings?"

Harry turned back to the man who held his heart. He brought a hand up to cradle Draco's head, stroking his cheek with his thumb. "You don't want to say that."

Draco reached forward and clung to Harry's tunic. "I do not care. I want you, I want you to have all of me."

Harry's other hand came to clasp at Draco's. He laughed bitterly. "But I will never have all of you," he spat. "Your dear king has your hand, your body, and from the way the land sees, your heart as well."

Draco shook his head. "No, not my heart. I grew up with Blaise. He is a great friend and at first I was not opposed to marrying him. I thought I would grow to love him as a husband. But it never happened, I met you Harry and you stole my heart the minute you struck that first chord on your harp." Draco took a shuddering breath and met Harry's surprised eyes. "You have my love, do what you will with it. I can not escape from my marriage with Blaise, I would not do that to him, but I can give you my body. I am yours, my handsome Harper."

Harry should have refused. Instead, he took the fair man's hands and gently led him to the large bed. Draco allowed Harry to lead, knowing it was one thing he could give the man without any loss of his own. He could not help but compare, even as Harry was divesting them both of their clothes, how much more assured Harry's touch was. Blaise loved him, a fact that always sent a pang of guilt through him when they were in bed together, but here Harry loved him and so too did he love him back.

Harry was a slow lover, taking his time exploring Draco's body. He knew he'd get few times to have this man and so he went over every patch of skin, spending many long moments on both of Draco's pink nipples and even longer attached to his mouth, hands roaming freely. The moon high in the sky by the time Harry had moved even from Draco's torso and by that point the royal man was gasping, hypersensitive to every small caress.

Assured by the relaxed form of Draco, Harry spent only a moment preparing him with the lotion on the bedside table and then entered him in one thrust, coming out and thrusting again at a steady pace.

Draco arched back against each thrust, hands gripping at Harry's biceps as he moaned. "Harry, Harry, Harry, please, Harry," he mumbled again and again as he was taken.

Harry brought one hand down to bring Draco to his release, taking only three more thrusts after to come to his own.

Draco lay sated on the bed as Harry hovered over him, pulling out and watching, taking note of the flush on the paler man's cheeks and the swollen nature of his mouth. Over his body, love bites reared their marks and Harry winced, realizing he'd have to be more careful than that.

That did not stop Harry and Draco from finding pleasure with each other as the snow continued to build up. It was only during the spring thaw that the passes cleared enough to allow safe passage.

And with the thaw came a company of men, led by the king himself, to pick up his consort and take him home.

oooOooo

_When Tristan could no longer bear the shame of guilty conscience,_

_He took ship to far Bretagne, half-hearted and bereft._

_He cast aside his music, cut the strings which brought him joy,_

_And took solace in the fury of the field. _

It only took one look at Draco and the king reunited together before Harry was forced to flee, for his own sanity if nothing else. He said no goodbye, though he knew that act would hurt his lover. He could not stand to be the consort's mister in Dublin, would not be able to exist with such a life.

Defiantly, he headed to England, where talk of war sparked the forgotten warrior in him. He bought a sword, jumped aboard the next ship out of Ireland, and did not look back.

As for Draco, when he turned to find the whereabouts of his lover, all he found was a single prized harp and a small note.

Happy be those who don't live in lies and deceit. The sun loves the moon, but it is the night that keeps them apart. Should moon and night stay together, happiness perhaps they shall find.

Draco discreetly searched all of Ireland and Whales for his Cornish lover, but he never heard word of an ebony-haired Master Harper and so, distraught, he settled into his life with Blaise. Despite all the note seemed to ask, he did not find happiness only contentment. Somehow, he told himself, that would have to be enough.

oooOooo

_Praise grew up around him like the corn around a boulder_

_As the Cornishman did battle with demons in and out._

_In singing sword and thunder, Tristan vainly sought distraction_

_Yet she whispered in the silence of the slain._

Harry worked his way into the armies of King Arthur of Britain and fought with a ruthlessness that surprised even himself. He gave no name, though he was asked many times. Because of that, his battle companions simply called him Black and he accepted the title easily. Not because of his hair-color, for all that was their reasoning, but for the blackened mess that was left of his heart.

The enemy soon learned to cringe at the sight of his soulless green eyes, but Harry took no prisoners and gave mercy only in quick death. Blood soaked his hands so thoroughly that he knew he'd never be able to play his harp again, even if he had kept it, for the pure instrument wouldn't accept the killer's hand's he now wore.

It was in war that Harry made friends with the youngest son of King Arthur, a man named Ron, who fought besides him, not fearing as many of the others did when Harry felled the enemy soldiers.

Harry accepted Ron's presence easily enough, though he rarely spoke with him. It was only one night that threatened to break that fragile bond.

Ron sat at the fire next to Harry, laughing with some of the other warriors. "What was that you were saying yesterday, Seamus?" Ron asked over his bread.

"About the Irish king?" Seamus shot back. He was Irish himself and had come over from that country to fight war.

Harry stiffened, but none of them took notice.

"The Irish king and he flowery male whore," Ron chortled out. "What did you say, overcompensating or something, huh?"

Before Seamus could answer, Harry had Ron flat on his back, sword threateningly close to his neck.

"Never speak of Draco in such a manner again," Harry growled, not caring that he was possibly going to get beheaded for acts against a member of the royal family. "Or I will not hesitate to cut out your tongue."

Ron's eyes were wide, as were the eyes of all the other nearby. Seamus had his mouth wide open, though any words he would have said seemed caught.

Satisfied that they got his meaning, Harry let go of the prince and stood. He turned to face all of them. "I fight for your country, I kill for country, I may even die for your country, but do not mistake that as loyalty. There is only one who hold that, and I will not hear any ill words of him."

The next day, battle raged and the other warriors seemed to ignore all that Harry had said, at least in the remark that they didn't charge him for treason. But neither did anyone again mention the Irish king and his Consort.

oooOooo

_In the way of warriors rewarding noble heroes,_

_Fairest Blanchmaine of the Britons was given for his wife._

_But Blanchmaine knew no pleasure from her cold and grieving husband_

_For the marble face of memory was his bride._

Nearly a year after he'd joined the English army, Harry stepped in front of an arrow meant for Ron, ignoring the sting in his arm as the tip went through and came out the other end.

The medics quickly took him from the field, though Harry protested that he was fine. Soon enough, the arrowhead was broken off and the shaft was pulled out, luckily not splintering inside his skin.

Ron found him later, lying on his bed in the med tent, staring at the tent ceiling. "You saved my life," Ron said immediately. "I am in your debt."

Harry shook his head. "It did not even pierce my bone. I shall be able to fight again in only a few short weeks."

"Still," Ron said. "How can I repay you?"

Harry looked at him, eyes dead. "I want only one thing and that is the thing I'll never have."

Ron left, head reeling, but he made sure to tell his father the king of his companion's actions. King Arthur, hearing that the strong warrior had no wife, and since Consorts were a much rarer practice in England gave that no thought, called the ebony-haired man to attend him.

Harry travelled to the castle and knelt before the red-haired king easily. "Your Majesty," he murmured as he lowered his head.

Arthur looked over the cool warrior. His son had told him that the one called Black had no loyalty to England, and yet he was such a fantastic warrior. Surely once something was in place that tied the man to his country, Arthur would benefit from having such a warrior. And, though Arthur was hardly attracted himself, he knew what a handsome man looked like, and Black was one indeed.

Decided Arthur cleared his throat. "Warrior, you are called Black, is that the name you wish to be given?"

Harry's head rose. "It is the name I do not care to be known by or not to be, milord."

Arthur frowned. "So you do not wish to be called it?"

"Whatever pleases milord," Harry said mildly. "I will give no other name."

Arthur's frown deepened at this, but he put it out of his mind. "Very well then, Warrior Black, I, King Arthur of England, in deference to the saving of my youngest son's life, grant upon you the title of knighthood."

Harry blinked at this, though accepted it as the sword was placed on his shoulder and transferred to the other. He spoke no oath, however, and Arthur did not ask for one. Harry had half a mind to wonder why, but then Arthur was continuing.

"Sir Black, I have heard you've no wife, is that a truth?"

"Yes, my liege," Harry said, changing the title now that he was knighted. He may not have spoken an oath, but he would rule by one so long as he could.

"Well then, Sir Black, you shall take my daughter's hand in marriage and join our royal family," Arthur said. It was not a question, but a command, and Harry heard it just as that.

Harry turned to gaze upon the smiling face of the youngest royal, a girl with flaming red hair and un-noble freckles.

But Harry consented, seeing no way he could turn down the offer and still stay in England. He had no desire to go back to mainland Europe and Ireland was out of the question at this point.

Harry and Ginevra, Ginny as she preferred though he never used the nickname, were wed in a simple manner that Harry could not help but compare to the wedding that had changed his life. He was soon immersed in the royal family and though he liked many of his brothers-in-law and even his new king and queen, he had no desire for Ginny and that showed, at least to her, in his actions.

Ginny had been excited initially at the thought of marrying such a handsome and brave man, but though he conversed well enough with her twin brothers and even with Ron, he barely spoke a word to her. When they made love, as she liked to call it, he was cold and distant. When they lay in their bed, he made no move to touch her.

And so, even as war still raged, Ginny grew bitter against the man she'd dreamed would be so perfect and yet to her was nothing but an empty title of husband.

oooOooo

_In that time the country was beset with Eden's serpents_

_And the basest of all creatures can bring the highest low._

_Two poisons coursed within him, and none could be his savior_

_But the healing arts of Ireland and Isolt._

Harry continued to fight in the name of England, now besides any and all of the royal family instead of just Ron. When he was finally struck down it was by no man, but instead by a serpent named Nagini and set upon him by the evil lord with whom they warred.

Even as Nagini reared her ugly head, Harry laid the final blow upon the Lord Voldemort, killing him just as the snake struck forward.

Neville, a lord of which he'd grown fond, killed the snake and brought both Harry's limp body and the news of the end of the war to their camp. Harry was quickly transported to the castle where he lay fevered and sick even as the country celebrated the end of a long campaign.

None but Harry knew that it was not one but two venoms that swept through his body. Nagini's poison was killing him quickly, but it was already helped by the desperation come from lost love that had been taking it's toll on Harry's soul ever since his arrival in England.

"There is nothing I can do, my king," the healer said as King Arthur stood by Harry's bedside.

Harry blinked blearily. "Draco," he rasped. "Bring me Draco."

"Draco of Ireland?" King Arthur exclaimed. "I'd heard he was good at the healing arts, but Black, would he come?"

"Let me write me a letter," Harry begged. "He will come."

And so Harry did, hand shaking as he asked for his only love to join his bedside. His fever reached new heights even just as he finished his draft and before he could make sure the letter had been sent, he slipped into a harsh sleep.

oooOooo

_Wings of hope departed, struggling North against the tempest_

_With tender words entreating for mercy and for grace._

_If his love no longer moved her, hoist the black into the rigging_

_But if white brought them together, he would wait._

On the day Harry was struck by Nagini, Draco felt a phantom pain in his thigh, at the exact spot of Harry's wound, and grew sick. The Irish king was frantic with worry over his Consort, but Draco made a relatively fast recovery and they ignored the strange occurrence.

Nearly a week later, a letter arrived at the palace addressed to Draco. He opened it, curious as to why the king of England would write to him. His husband looked on over his shoulder, but made no move to take the parchment.

"Consort King Draco," Draco read allowed for his husband's benefit. "I ask of you a boon, one of which is of great importance to me. My son-in-law is sick, dying even now from the venom of a serpent. My healers tell me you may be able to save him, and so I beg of thee, one royal to another, to travel with haste to Britain. I will forever be in thy debt and the debt of thy king, if only you would save this man I have come to call a son."

Draco exchanged a glance with Blaise, both confused. "I see no harm," Blaise said finally. "I must stay here, but take the royal guards. I doubt King Arthur would risk bringing another war upon his country."

Draco nodded, having heard of the final completion of the previous battling. Though England was victorious, it was not without great cost.

"There is more," Blaise pointed to the scrawled script on the back of the parchment. Draco turned it over and almost dropped the letter, instantly recognizing Harry's handwriting.

Draco read it quickly, no longer aloud, but Blaise had no such inhibitions.

"Draco," Blaise began, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the lack of formality. "It has been many years since I've last laid eyes on you and much has happened to me. As you may have heard, I am married though by no choice of my own. I find myself on my deathbed and though I do not fear my fate, my only wish is that one last time you to be by my side. Upon your ship, raise black sails if you no longer care for me. But if you do, as I still do you, then let white adorn. Yours, Harry."

Draco did drop the letter as Blaise read, but the king kept his hold on it, turning as he finished to meet the wide eyes of his consort. "Blaise," Draco began.

"This is he," Blaise stated, cutting Draco off. "The man who holds your heart. King Arthur's son-in-law?"

Draco swallowed deeply. "How?"

Blaise gave him a sad and slightly bitter smile. "I know you do not love me as I do you, Draco. Another already holds your heart, but I could not bring myself to ask who."

Draco turned his face away, eyes now wet. It had been so long since he'd seen Harry, but his love had not dwindled in the least. "I am sorry."

Blaise reached one hand up and wiped away the single tear as it fell. "Go, heal your love. I will not begrudge you that."

Draco leaned in and gave Blaise a kiss, one last goodbye though then neither knew it, and then he left quickly.

Blaise stood much longer, staring at the letter's script, before finally throwing it in the fire, watching it burn with the remaining hope he'd had.

oooOooo

_Daylight creeping downward, Tristan's demons massed against him_

_And the words of his delusions brought hidden love to light,_

_While the woman he had married but to whom he'd given nothing_

_Sat her long and jealous vigil by his side._

In England, Harry was moved to the port city where Draco's ship would be coming in. He barely noticed, too sick now to even lift his hand. Eventually, the royal family returned to their duties, all the while keeping an ear out for the fate of their brother-in-law. Only Ginny kept her place by her husband's bedside.

Deep in the night, as Harry dreamed with feverish nightmares, Ginny watched. "Draco," was murmured upon pale lips every so often and each time Ginny felt her heart break. She could not pretend that her husband just wished to be healed. No, she'd read the letter her husband had sent. He never loved her because he loved another.

Ginny raged jealously, maintaining her place, and yet eyes burning with all the pent up aggression and bitter anger. She had been upstarted even before she'd met the man she had wed, and now her husband and his pansy lover were to be reunited.

Ginny had never thought of herself as a mean girl, but as she heard that name on the lips of her husband, she could not let go of the rage inside her.

oooOooo

_Morning framed the answer walking lightly o'er the water._

_Like Christ's own victory banner, it flew toward the shore._

_It was white as angels' raiments, but when feebly he begged her,_

_Fairest Blanchemaine softly told him, "'Tis of night."_

It seemed nature was on the lover's side, for Draco's ship had a strong wind guide their passage from Ireland's shore to England's, arriving only the next day with bright white sails.

Ginny, from her spot at the window, saw the sails as the ship docked and something inside her snapped. When she returned to her husband's death room, she held no sanity in her eyes.

"He has arrived," Harry mumbled, barely able to speak. "Tell me, Ginny, he is here, is he not?"

Ginny, who had not once heard her nickname spoken from her husband's lips, smiled cruelly, able at once to exact her perfect revenge. "The sails are black," she said with no remorse. "Black as night, black as your name, and black as your heart."

In that one instance, though Harry knew with certainty that his wife must be lying, his body shuddered. He could not accept that Draco was not besides him, and yet his ownself betrayed him.

And so Ginny watched, no love in her eyes, as her husband had seizure and died. She most calmly informed the manor's staff to ring the death bell and she sat by her dead husband's bedside, a body no longer with a soul.

oooOooo

_Who can say which venom took the soul from Tristan's body,_

_And the bells began their tolling as Isolt ran up the strand._

_The wind grew slow and silent as she wept upon her lover,_

_And in gentleness it took her grief away._

Draco was running up the length of the dock, ignoring his guards, ignoring the noble entourage waiting for him, ignoring everything but the sudden dread in his own gut. He would make it, he had to make, his mind begged even as he forced himself to run faster.

It was at the doors of the dockside manor that Draco heard for himself the death bell. He threw open the wood and made his way as fast as the wind to the room he could feel in his very being his lover lay.

There was a red-haired female by his lover's bed, but Draco ignored her just as surely as he'd ignored all the others and rushed up to the man with whom he'd never been able to forget.

"Harry!" Draco cried as he threw himself atop the body that was even then still warm. "Harry!"

And Ginny watched on as the blond Irish Consort King wept, a broken heart clearly shown, but still she felt nothing but satisfaction.

Draco could feel it as Harry's soul slipped away from his body, taking with it Draco's own heart. "No," he wept. "Do not leave me again, Harry, my love."

The soul seemed to pause and then it came, gently enveloping the distraught lover. Draco could feel as it pulled at him and in that moment he accepted his fate. Sparing one thought for his husband back in Ireland, he thanked the gods that he'd prepared for this, though he'd not wanted to believe the possibility when he'd written his goodbye letter.

Laying on his dead love, Draco gently met their lips as the soul took from him his own and with it, Harry's heart which had been beating in Draco's body. Without soul or heart, but with purity of both unlike the girl still watching, Draco died silently in sad peace.

oooOooo

_Side by side they laid them with the earth their separation._

_Even yet, they were divided by the morals of the world._

_But their spirits spiralled upwards, Ireland's briar and Cornwall's rose,_

_And together at the last, they lay entwined._

King Arthur buried his son-in-law on the royal grounds, the funeral attended to by many of the warriors Black, or Harry as he was supposedly named, had fought with. Ginny spent the rest of her life living silently in the castle, wandering aimlessly as if a ghost. Many assumed her too overcome with grief. She died at a young age, but her soul had already been taken to a dark place.

King Blaise took his consort to be buried in Ireland. Just as in England, the funeral was attended by many though by the friends and family of Draco and Blaise both.

It was months after both ceremonies that Blaise found the letter Draco had left for him. It was next to a beautifully simplistic harp that was collecting dust in a spare drawer of Draco's old study.

Blaise read the letter and when he was done he called for a carriage. Nearly a week later, he found himself at an old, crumbling church. Following his instructions, he found the spot on the wall where two vines crept upwards towards the sky.

Blaise laid down the harp at the ground between the two plants and for the first time since the death of his consort he smiled as he gazed upon Cornwall's rose and Ireland's briar, entwined together at last.


End file.
